Black Widow: Atonement
by TeamWidow
Summary: She had always known that every relationship was an open cage that the other party could close the door of whenever they saw fit. It was a strange feeling, craving something she feared. / Will explore what the author would like to see in a Black Widow movie. Based off of comics and movies. Post Civil War.
1. Prologue

The apartment was dimly lit with a few clothes strewn over the back of the couch in the living room. A cat meowed softly, pawing at the glass of one of the window panes for its owner to let it in. Or rather, the woman that fed it all the time. She had yet to actually claim him as her own.

Natasha was standing on her hands in her living room, legs splayed out in a split as she balanced for ten counts, then slowly brought them back up to center.

Her cellphone buzzed on the coffee table, and she spared a glance up to see who the text was from.

Isaiah. He could wait.

The exercise went on until Natasha couldn't ignore the dizziness that the rush of blood to her head left her with. Or maybe it was the second time her phone buzzed that really caught her attention. With all of the grace of the cat that was still pawing at her window, Nat righted herself, eyes closing as she regained her bearings. Her hand went to the phone, but she moved to the window to let the cat in before she opened the message.

 _What are you avoiding, Natalia?_

"I know you're cold," she muttered in Russian as a bit of the snow flurried in with the black ball of fur. "We all are."

The black cat darted inside like a shadow before lighting gracefully on her jacket draped over the back of the sofa. Natasha closed the window and watched as the snowflakes that had come in melted on the wood floor.

Her phone buzzed again, and Nat's brow furrowed. Maybe there was something wrong…

 _Isaiah: Call me._

 _Isaiah: It's urgent._

 _Isaiah: Nat, I know you're getting these._

Natasha closed her eyes and flipped the phone shut. She moved back to the couch to sit next to Liho. The cat watched her with big green eyes for a solid minute before deciding to cuddle up next to her. She sighed and ran a hand through his soft fur.

"I know it's important. But what am I supposed to say? They're all looking for me."

The cat started to purr as she rubbed at the white patch of fur just beneath his chin. He dropped his head down and rubbed the side of his head against her finger.

"They're all after me."

That time the sentence was little more than a whisper. It was tainted with irritation… and grief.

It had been a month since the incident with Steve and Barnes, and Isaiah had managed to get her an apartment in Brooklyn away from any prying eyes. Stark had managed to fend off T'Challa from coming after her after her betrayal— barely— and now it was a matter of steering clear of any authorities. Isaiah had wanted to take her out of the country, somewhere remote… But that was exactly where they would be looking for her, wasn't it? No. It was better to be in the middle of the action. She couldn't do her work if she didn't have access to Isaiah, after all.

Natasha let her head fall back to rest against the sofa, and she studied the watermark on the ceiling. She had spent several nights in the beginning trying to discern what the shape reminded her of. It was between a lop-sided bird and a dog with two noses.

Neither really appealed to her, and she turned her head away to look back towards the shabby little kitchen.

The apartment was a hole in the wall, such a different place compared to where she had lived as an Avenger.

She hadn't heard from Stark or Rogers at all. The world was back to normal now— at least until the next psychopathic overlord tried to conquer it. She had helped make it that way in both Sokovia and New York. Those had been the physical battles, and D.C.'s incident had been an emotional one.

She needed to keep going. She was a spy, not a soldier. After The Avengers split up and The Accords, she had needed to get away, take some time to let everything die down before she made a public appearance again.

Besides, she could still hear Stark's voice in her head: _"They're coming for you."_

She didn't regret her actions. She didn't regret helping Steve— and in the end, everything had worked out. At least when it came to the world's stabilization. So it was back to the shadows, back to a life of living in the dark so the light could still survive.

Besides, there were certain tasks that only she was capable of, tasks The Avengers could never have touched. SHIELD had served as a decent channel to get to some of the less savory assignments— the ones that the world could never know about— but now that they were gone and her image was plastered across the internet, those jobs were even harder to come by.

That was what she had Isaiah for.

Natasha was the best in her line of work, but even that required practice, and with that practice came her constant attempts to atone for a past she was ashamed of. How many more of these would it take? How many more before she felt relief from the nightmares and the guilt?

 _Focus, Natalia. Always stay in the present– never in the past. Never in the future. The present is all you have._

Ivan Petrovich would forever be a part of her past– and she remembered him so vividly that she couldn't even take his own advice on staying in the present. Her mentor was long dead. He shouldn't have been a part of her thoughts anymore. But he was. Just another failure he would have seen in her, no doubt.

 _Always keep moving forward, never back._

She was too human. She couldn't just forget all of what had happened— even though she wanted to. God, did she want to. But now was not the time for dark brooding and memories. Now was the time for action.

Her hand went back to her phone, and she pulled up the messages from Isaiah again.

 _I'm here. What's up? -N_

It wasn't even a minute after she had replied that she got the next message.

 _Isaiah: New assignment. Moscow. Can you meet?_

Natasha replied quickly this time.

 _Yeah. Give me an hour. -N_

Liho gave a contemptuous meow as she stood up from her seat, and she had to fight a smile. He stood and followed her along the back of the couch as she grabbed the jacket he had been drawn to when he first came in. Another upset meow followed as she grabbed her keys.

"I'll be back. I'll be back," she reminded him.

Well, she hoped she would. But that had always been part of it right? The risk?

Only now Natasha was risking more than her life. She was risking her freedom, the one thing she thought she had gained in working for SHIELD and The Avengers. But she had always known that every relationship was an open cage. She hated that the door could be closed at any moment if the other party saw fit. She had lost everyone, and she had no intention of losing anyone again.

She had lost Steve, lost the team she had come to view in her own twisted way as her family… She had lost Bruce, and she had lost Barnes.

But then again she had lost James a long time ago, hadn't she?

Liho was the exception, and even that had her worried. Attachments weren't good for someone in her line of work. It was better to be alone.

It was a strange feeling, craving something she feared.

With that, Nat dipped into her bedroom to grab the black wig she had been using when she went out. Her red curls went up in a bun, and the black hair settled around her cheeks as she took a look in the mirror. She glanced at her watch. It was almost ten p.m. That would mean Isaiah would be at the park to meet her…

"See you, Liho."


	2. Chapter 1: Cold

Moscow: Present Day

The end of a cigarette caught fire, illuminating Natasha's hand in the darkened alley. She halted in her movement to bring it to her lips for a moment, green eyes cutting from one dark figure in the street to another before taking a drag.

Moscow. The snow here was colder than New York's. She was sure of it.

It was home, but home didn't really mean a lot to the Widow. It had at one point… but now?

Smoke plumed from the agent's nose and mouth, and she brought a hand up to run along her hairline. The itch of the black wig covering her bright red hair caught her attention for the briefest moment before she was back on task.

Nat's hand went to the tazers in her pocket. A gun was strapped into a shoulder holster beneath her jacket. This was just an intel extraction. Nothing more.

The cigarette in her hand fell to the iced sidewalk, and Nat watched the smoke against the snow before stepping it out with the toe of her boot. She hadn't touched the things in years– not since she had been on the home team's side. They had kept her going during the long ballet lessons.

This mission was necessary. She much preferred to be picky in her jobs, but since The Avengers had disbanded, she wasn't in the position to be choosy. The term 'beggars can't be choosers' was so accurate, it hurt.

Besides, this was personal.

The Widow stepped from her hiding place, letting both hands fall to rest outside of her pockets. The black leather of her gloves kept the frost-ridden wind from numbing out her hands.

She would be sneaking in the back way of the warehouse, moving from the bottom to the top of the rafters to gain a view of the system she was spying on. Gloved hands reached up on top of the windows just above her head, and she pulled herself up to perch on the ledge. She pressed herself flat against the side of the window's frame, though the inky blackness blended in with her attire fairly easily.

Then her mind went into computer mode.

Two guards— one on the right side of the room by the door, and the other lounging in a rolling chair in front of a couple of computer screens. The computer was what she needed. All she had to do was get to it, crack the code to access the files, and then high tail it out of there before reinforcements could arrive.

Or, if everything went right, Frisch would give her what she needed.

This would be a cakewalk.

Dropping down from the window sill, she turned to step towards the door. She readied her pistol and took in a deep breath…

It was just like preparing to step onto a stage.

As the door opened, her eye caught the trip wire that would send a silent alarm to the guard's station. She ran her foot through the wire intentionally, taking in a breath before she moved further into the room. Two steps down the hallway, and she stopped, poised momentarily to wait for the blow that would be coming as she rounded the corner. Natasha might have overdone it a bit in the theatrics of it all, but the next thing she knew she was on the ground. She had this act down to a science. The large fist of her attacker grabbed her by her hair– or rather the wig– and it was ripped from her head to reveal disheveled red curls.

"It's her. Boss said she would be coming."

"Well don't just stand there– get her up. He'll want to talk to her."

They were taking her exactly where she needed to be now, but the job wasn't little fight was never good either. They knew who she was. They knew what she was capable of physically.

Nat shot a long leg out to knock the feet out from under her attacker. She worked better on her feet, but this would have to do. As the man hit the ground, she grabbed her gun and took aim at his face.

Click.

The sound of a gun cocking behind her head, just to the left of her ear, stopped her from pulling the trigger.

 _Like clockwork, Natasha._

"Drop it, Widow."

Natasha complied— again, waiting to sell the mark.

It would never cease to amaze her how so many men played right into the display of a damsel in distress. Sure it was good for a few drinks here and there on the more harmless end of the spectrum, but when it came to work like Natasha's, it was the perfect trap.

Another line of Ivan's ran through her head:

 _Let them think they have you. Let them think you've put up all the fight you can… And then break them where they stand._

Once the pair had her on her feet, then ushered her through the hallways that would have been ten times harder to get through undetected. She did love an entrance…

It wasn't long before the pair had her where she needed to be. The hallway opened up to the main portion of the warehouse where a system of computers sat linked together. It was clearly not a government regulated facility, and she took every piece of equipment in like a camera was flashing with each note she made.

"Sit her down. She won't be getting up with that leg…"

The head honcho appeared in the next moment or two, and her eyes immediately went to follow his form. Charles Frisch, according to her intel. He looked taller in the pictures…

"The Black Widow. She doesn't fall so easily." His accent was thick, german. "Maybe she isn't as tough as the legends say, hm?"

Natasha stayed where she was, cuffed to the chair as she watched the HYDRA lead move closer.

"Though the legends don't come from just anywhere, do they?"

Natasha was still playing the part of damsel pretty well, but they were on to her.

"We are both alike, aren't we? Both hounded by governments for choosing sides?"

Nat cocked her head to the side. "Maybe. But that doesn't change the fact that you're packing some pretty heavy duty stuff for an organization that's all but dead."

She watched as Frisch moved from one screen to another. Would she be able to tap into his need to monologue? To disclose everything to the captured princess?

"You could start with telling me why Shostakov's DNA is still on file here, if you were really interested in speeding this whole process up."

"Who is the one cuffed to a chair, Agent Romanoff? I'm quite certain I'm the one in charge of time." Frisch shot her a smirk as he pulled one of the usb drives on the table next to her and held it before her. "Shostakov's DNA means nothing to us. Not without you."

Nat took her chance. Her foot came up, knocking the drive out of Frisch's hand and kicking him in the face before standing up to round house kick the guard standing next to her. She twisted the metal cuffs holding her right hand to the chair before turning her wrist to grab the arm of it. Then, she swung the chair at the other guard.

Brute force wasn't her favorite. But dammit if it didn't get the job done when she needed it to. She ducked down to grab the key out of the unconscious man's pocket…

She was free in an instant, scooping up the drive and charging towards the door. Another guard appeared, gun drawn now.

"Don't kill her!" That was Frisch.

"Right. Less than favorable," she quipped. She stepped into the man, shooting a hand up to force the barrel of the gun towards the ceiling as it fired. From there, she thrust the heel of her hand into the man's nose. As he stepped back, she took another step to slip a foot behind him. He fell backwards, sprawling into a couple of the computers along the wall by the door.

Nat reached into her utility belt and withdrew a smoke grenade. She pulled the pin and tossed it through the opening of the exit as more guards came through. Then, she turned back towards Frisch.

The information she had was important, but without her contact's holding of the scientist, there really wasn't much that could be done about The Red Guardian.

She made to grab his cowering form through the smoke. She didn't stop to think that he could play this game too.

A knife shot from Frisch's sleeve, slashing towards Natasha as she turned to the side and lunged back. She caught his wrist in both hands as it slashed past her and turned his arm downwards until it was restrained behind his back. She delivered a kick to the side as another guard came at her, then spun to stand behind Frisch. Gun to his head, she stayed behind him as the guards took aim with their own weapons.

"If I die, you lose the information you need, Romanoff," Frisch said in an attempt to call her bluff.

Bluffing was something she was quite good at, and he seemed to underestimate how far she was willing to go.

She kept the gun to Frisch's temple, counting the number of guns that were trained on her. "Are you willing to bet your life on that notion?" she asked, cocking the gun at his head.

Frisch stiffened, but he didn't show any sign of fear.

"Lower your weapons," Frisch called. So, he wasn't ready to die just yet.

Natalia watched as his men followed his command. She backed up, keeping him locked against her.

"Thank you, Doctor," she chimed. Natasha pushed him forward and withdrew the last of her smoke grenades. She dropped it before the guards had the chance to bring their weapons back to take aim…

Gunshots rang out through the haze of smoke as Natasha sent a grappling hook up towards the ceiling. In the same second, she was well above the cloud that engulfed the men she left behind. As she made it to the line of windows along the top of the warehouse, Nat swung forward to light on the ledge just beneath the glass.

She pocketed the flash drive in her utility belt before drawing her pistol to take aim at the glass. Turning her head to the side, she fired two shots, breaking the glass on impact. Another shot rang out, and with it came the familiar feeling of a bullet in her right bicep.

Nat cursed, sparing a glance back long enough to see Frisch taking aim again.

"Stop! You don't know what you are taking!"

Then The Black Widow was gone, landing a bit awkwardly in the snow before she took off running. She could hear the alarm sounding in the warehouse behind her now, and she slipped from the lights that flashed on in search of her.

"Isaiah, have the plane ready," she called into the communicator in her ear. "And a medic."


End file.
